


time bombs and coke bottles

by dramatic_audio



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Counting Down, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, I think anyway, M/M, PTSD, Secret Santa 2017, and lots of it!, caleb recovers from safe house, caleb's power beings presenting, character sketch, chloe's contact in caleb's phone is art mom, i wrote most of this out of order apologies, no one likes damien, or skip it if you know it will be Bad, there's a lot of hours, this one's for u kate ur wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatic_audio/pseuds/dramatic_audio
Summary: there was a place behind his sternum where all the little things would collect, a ticking time bomb and bottled-up feelings like a bottle of coke, that he’s tossed around in the sun and glued mentos under the lid.caleb learns to live with it.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas, happy hanukkah, and all other religions that celebrate in the winter months and happy holidays to those that don't--this is my gift to kate ([courf](http://courf.tumblr.com/) on tumblr). she has amazing art in her [art tag](http://courf.tumblr.com/tagged/diddle) for the bright sessions, wolf 359, and other podcasts that you should totally go check out. she's also just a wonderful person and i'm happy to know her and be her gift-giver for secret santa! and lastly s/o to @ashellthatsang (do @s work? she knows who she is) for being an excellent beta and for her initial suggestion of "small baby who paint" for chloe's contact name, and generally all of her comments and edits.

**2015**  
**13,114 hours before**

the fluorescent locker room lighting is like a hot poker to the eyes as they stumble in, sweaty bodies, jubilant faces. there’s a chant, echoing dimly outside the sphere of his hearing. some guys clap him on the back, they say, “good game, michaels!” or, if they’re being creative, “fucken’ awesome, bro!” he peels off his uniform and wonders about forced euphoria. he can feel it pumping through his blood, but the dull throbbing of a headache forming makes it hard to concentrate on either. 

his wardrobe is a regular disaster on the best of nights, and everything he has in a hastily packed sports back is just not proper to go out in. this is what he tells himself, as one of the guys proposes in’n’out, and they all agree. “not tonight,” he says, to be accosted with protests.

“come on michaels, it’s your sixteenth! we took home the win and you might as well come,” one of the guys, jake, says. _it’s not a real game_ , caleb wants to respond.  
“hey, you turned sixteen today? did you get a car? fucken’ lit—you can drive us!”

“of course i didn’t get a car, are you kidding me?” he says with a short laugh. “listen, i’ll go with you guys next time—” but he’s drowned in protest.

the headache is splitting his forehead now, but if he says no again they’ll just leave without him, and he’ll feel worse sitting at home alone.  
probably.

**9,020 hours before**

“what, are you a pansy? weak-ass bitch,” the other guy sneers, even though he’s a junior and the kid looks like, well, that. a freshman, definitely.

“hey, don’t talk like that,” caleb interrupts. the junior turns around and takes a long look at caleb. they may both be in the same grade, but this guy must’ve been held back. he feels the contempt like a punch to the gut, and almost physically doubles over. the fear at the sudden stab of a foreign feeling must’ve shown on his face, because the other guy laughs suddenly, a short bark.

“who’re you, his boyfriend?” he taunts. there’s anger washing through caleb, stronger with each wave. it feels like his own, but also invasive, foreign, like it’s hitting him from at least two different people, and this has been happening for the first three months of school, first three months he’s been back with people. sometimes it just hurts, and sometimes it’s like this: like a bottle of coke that’s been tossed around in the sun and manufactured with mentos glued under the lid, but the cap is stuck--

and the cap pops.

**8,900 hours before**

he doesn’t know how his parents found this special therapist’s office, or why, or what’s going on, just that he’s been suspended, and what he thinks are his dad’s feelings are lodged in his chest. frustration, a little tipsiness from bourbon (a byproduct of writer’s block) and eventually some sort of full on drunken euphoria from getting something right. even now that alice and his mom have been home all saturday morning, there’s something residual there, and it’s a horrific sticky feeling. still better than all of the millions of shades of emotions he’s hit with every day.

he hadn’t even begun to think of it like that until he realized he was feeling the same edges of that swirliness he gets at parties, drunken or not (he’s always thought maybe there’s weed in the air, or the body heat, or some sort of placebo drunkenness) but then he goes to ask his dad something and sees the bourbon and feels a sort of dread settle in his stomach.

every time he thinks of it in these terms, he feels tears pressing at the back of his eyes: he is clinically insane and he knows it. sooner or later, they’ll put him in an asylum, where he can’t tease alice or play football.

no matter what his dad says, he’s not going to cry. this is not how caleb michaels goes out: crying about his impending insanity.

he’s not going to cry in public, in any case. it’s only half embarrassing if you’re the only one to see yourself cry.

right as his eyes begin to burn in that painfully damning way, he feels a sudden jolt of fear, and caleb stands up slowly. hoping the receptionist (sarah, by the placard on her desk) will ignore him. he paces over to the door and cups an ear, but all he can hear is a low murmur and the hum of a noise machine.

but the fear ebbs, and he feels a dull sense of relief, and he doesn’t know if that’s his parents or his insanity whispering “listen to me, it is all alright”.


	2. 2

**2016**

**5,490 hours before**

it’s so sudden and violent, he suddenly feels like he’s tumbling back into his sixteenth birthday, with the colors and the sounds too bright, with a headache splitting apart his head. while the feelings from all the others around him are minimal, a little frustration, a little boredom, there’s a homeless man, who is just drowning in a million things.

the bus gets there, and even as the bus stop disappears into the distance, he still feels his temples throbbing.

when he tells dr. bright, almost spur of the moment, “i think maybe it would be nice to help people like him” she feels so proud that he can’t make himself tell her that all he wants to do is kick life in the stomach for cursing him with this, and somehow put this fucking terrible thing to someone’s betterment.

even though telling her things is what he’s here for.

**5,367 hours before**

he fucked up again.

oh, god, he fucked up again…

adam goes pale.

“oh, god, i have to go, sorry.”

“adam—what the fuck?”

he won’t meet caleb’s eyes. waves of panic crash against caleb, he is mostly unfeeling due to this terrible unfolding terror, look at this friendship i just destroyed singlehandedly. “listen, i forgot, we have our project due monday--”

“adam, we worked on that already—and you always do homework on sundays, what are you…”

he shakes his head again, and _he won’t meet caleb’s eyes…_

“i’m sorry,” he repeats, and then he’s just gone.

and caleb is alone.

and it’s like when you get one taste of true friendship, you just can’t go back to that pale imitation again. slaps on the back, good game, michaels, god, what an _idiot_ he is.

god. why does he always have to fuck things up?

**5,436 hours before**

adam has his license, but he can’t drive stick, and his parents are usually too busy for them to take his car, so no, he doesn’t drive much. but when the hayes’ family car parks, it’s adam that rounds the hood, face set, unreadable.

“hey.”

“that was kind of a dick move, leaving me yesterday,” caleb starts, and then _oh god, why did i say that, i do i always have to—_

adam cracks a smile. “oh… well.”

it’s immediately awkward.

“i guess you… you like me, right?” caleb asks. he asked dr. bright twenty minutes ago, but he needs confirmation. “because, i—“

“yes, you idiot, i like you,” adam says.

“oh. that’s, um, that’s good,” caleb says, then hastily-“i like you too.”

adam laughs again. “so i’ve heard.”

“what now?” caleb asks, once it’s gotten sufficiently awkward again.

“want to hang out?” adam asks him. he kicks the dirt, and stops when he realizes how patently shy that looks.

caleb is shocked. “but—sunday’s your study day, though!”

adam looks kind of embarrassed, somehow. “i, um, i finished my project when i worked on it with you the other day.”

caleb grinned. “come on in, then. i’m gonna kick your ass at destiny one…”

there’s something about the way it almost feels like adam’s heart is beating in time with his, or that the butterflies keep multiplying in his stomach, or that there’s just waves of euphoria crashing against caleb, mixing with the euphoria he’s already singlehandedly generating.

at least this dumb, stupid thing is half useful. sometimes.

adam texts him later. _i’m glad you told me,_ and then they have plans to walk to school tomorrow, and his heart is beating in his chest, and no, no, not a disaster, not at all.

**5,058 hours before**

it’s amusing to watch adam’s curiosity manifest. he can’t refuse the stakeout, because this dumb, stupid thing is at least good for making adam happy.

and he can feel how adam goes from nervous, to shy, to embarrassed, to happy, as they fumble through holding hands. the thought is there, in the back of his head telling him that maybe adam’s just interested in his ability (he would be, too, and that would be just one more thing it ruined), and has been for a while—well, that thought just shatters.

because he suggests they leave, tentatively, lets the offer hang, and adam agrees immediately, let’s come back monday; (yeah, of course we’ll do that!) because they’ve both realized to spy on people they have to be quiet, and neither wants to do that. 

and wow. he’s such a dork, and caleb loves him—

well. not like that. they’re friends first, and caleb loves him, like platonically, and all. and also like, has a huge crush. and so what if the feelings mix? he’s becoming an expert on it.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> direct quote from AShellThatSang upon receiving this: fcky fycu i, fcu .... hfuc  
> you can apply that to any part of the chapter you want. i don't know if it makes a difference.

**4,488 hours before**

“i think she likes him,” adam says. “no, don’t turn around! let’s just walk over there and have our conversation… over there.”

“what… what are you doing?” caleb asks.

“don’t you want to know if he likes her back?”

“i don’t even know who we’re talking about,” he complains, but he’s smiling. adam is too.

“look, we’ll just move over a bit, okay? and if we happen to be near enough to them that you can do your thing…”  
“dork,” caleb groans, but they fall in step, until they’re close enough that caleb can feel them, feel the awkward, smitten-ness mixing in the air between them. caleb just grins at adam, feeling the excitement and awkwardness seep into him, and adam smiles.

“meathead.” adam smirks, and adds (really loudly) “did you finish the chem homework?” caleb laughs, and _oh my god_.

**4,313 hours before**

it’s been one year.

they’re at the park where caleb told adam, which—less than a year.

no, it’s been one year since life broke open his head and in poured everyone’s feelings, and it’s been less than a year for some overdue good karma.

“i wanted you to open my present here,” he says, and the butterflies are just multiplying and multiplying. no one can see them here, on a bench tucked into the woodsy part of the park. caleb has to let go of his hands to open the slim package: an envelope, and he opens the envelope, and there’s a dollar store cd case covered in doodles, of them, of all the moments so far. when he opens it, there’s just a blank cd.

“turn it over,” adam says.

on the back is a list of his and adam’s favorite songs, and some new ones he’s never seen, all numbered, with timestamps on them… a mixtape. in a physical form.

he looks up at adam, who starts to say something, but he’s cut off.

and it’s a familiar feeling, like a coke bottle that’s been tossed around in the sun, manufactured with mentos glued under the lid, but the cap won’t come off, and that’s alright. because it’s not anger or fear, but it’s just pure ecstasy as he kisses adam.

**3,535 hours before**

his temples are pounding, and it isn’t until he steps into the hot summer air that he realizes he’s shaking. he uncurls his fists and feels his fingers and wrist twitching. right behind his sternum, something aches. dr. bright’s office was cold, and summer is moving in, and oh my god, what has he done.

he gets into the car idling at the curb. he can’t look at his mom, can’t talk to her, can’t even feel her, because there’s nothing inside him now, just a void, where there used to be one and one and green colored everything, there’s just yellow that looks like blue, or yellow that looks like nothing at all—smoke.

she understands, though.

he closes his eyes and puts one shaking hand over her heart, feels it pounding, pumping blood to limbs that don’t work anymore, and he knows that the aching place behind his sternum is where he bottles up his emotions, like a ticking time bomb. because when it came down to it, chloe’s discovery isn’t the only thing, but all the millions of things just collect and collect, and he bottles them up and glues mentos under the l id, and it’s not so much of a pop than a bang.

and this ticking time bomb just exploded and he’s not the only one standing in the wreckage.

“i lo—i—”

he opens his eyes. residual hurt and confusion and pain linger in his chest, and it tastes like green, because it’s both of theirs.

he closes his eyes.

_i think i just broke up with him._

and

_god, i hate fighting the people i love._

and

_oh my god, what is he going to do, what is he going to do to himself if i—_

and

_why do i always have to fuck things up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and on that note...  
> i think i forgot to put in the html italics for previous chapters--i'll go back and get that edited out. thanks to everyone who's added comments or kudos, they really make my day.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> girls don't want boys, girls want a spin-off podcast focused on adam called adam and the atypicals

**3,309 hours before**

**art mom:** what are you doing today?

 **you:** nothing

 **art mom:** come on…

 **you:** fine. i’m lying in bed and doing nothing

 **art mom:** well, i’m going to be at the studio this afternoon with frank.

 **art mom:** you know, if you want.

**art mom:** caleb, you know i’m all for self-care but this is extensive

**you:** finals are coming up, i’m studying

**art mom:** not what you said a minute ago

**you:** but i’ll try to stop by

**you:** shut up

**art mom:** okay, good :)

**art mom:** “try to stop by” around one

**you:** thanks

**you:** or whatever

 

frank’s a cool dude, and caleb really, truly wishes that he could spend more time in a room with the guy. there are some days when his emotions are calm, usually, when he’s with Chloe and they’re painting together, he finds some sort of peace. on the good days, anyway. today is not one of those.

after fifteen minutes, his head feels like it’s going to split open and there’s some sort of terrible, terrible loop happening, and ow.

he hugs chloe and thanks her for trying to cheer him up, and promises to facetime and text while he’s at the lake house. as he walks home, he wishes he could do more to help frank. or even more to just talk to him, be around him for more time. like chloe does. he wishes he could do something right with his ability and work the situation so everyone is happy.

on the walk back, he passes dr. bright’s office.

**1,967 hours before**

they text three times. caleb’s counted. he knows it’s technically his fault they are “broken up” or whatever, but he still doesn’t know what to say or do and he’s not totally convinced that he’s done sorting things out. so it just stands like this. every text sends his heart flipping. every snap too. they keep their 190 day streak, and everything else is mostly just “look at this new game” or “look at the sunset”. riveting stuff.

he posts on Instagram once, and caleb’s heart lurches no fewer than four times, and it’s not even all that much of a post, anyway.

he texts chloe every day. they facetime once a week, and she snaps him, too, optimistic pictures, pictures of her with sam and frank and sometimes a very confused looking dr. bright. he loves that she’s trying to cheer him up, though sometimes it just makes him feel more isolated from both of his worlds: adam and atypicals.

**1,650 hours before**

he says he wants to help people again, on their first session since he came back. this time he is so genuine. he may not always like his gift, but he knows how it feels to have it under control and working in his favor. it is a gift. it is a gift, and he wants to help people, like dr. bright has helped him, like chloe helps frank.

like… like he helps adam and adam helps him.

**1,362 hours before**

even at school, he can’t bring himself to look at adam, can’t bring himself to talk to him, not really, even though he can almost see the dark cloud that is wrapped around his head.

sometimes caleb wonders if he can breathe through that.

and when adam approaches, he looks defensive, feels anxious, bitter, and, god, just a million things. there’s a different air around him, exhausted and locked away and cold. something happened over the summer, but caleb doesn’t know what, and he knows he has no right to ask.

and the cloud isn’t gone, when they’re done, when they’re tentatively holding hands and shuffling their feet, but it’s lessened, just a little.

**1,197 hours before**

the studio smells like paint and creativity, like how chloe feels. he’s missed her so much, it just crashes over him. she just feels so comfortable and warm and glowing, like the quality of the feelings that fit right next to his, she’s… she’s all the shades of yellow that he isn’t. he goes to hug her and then notices sam. he’s seen her on chloe’s story and in her snaps and he’s heard about her (time-traveling sam) but this is the first time he’s met her. she looks tired, she feels anxious, and the feeling just grows, and then like that, it’s gone and so is she.

and even though it’s a bit awkward, and chloe keeps embarrassing him (god, sometimes it’s like he has three moms, his own, dr. bright, and her) it still feels like it was in april, when everything was new and clumsy and brilliantly happy.

adam’s so excited about the time traveling, and sam feels awkward, and a little uncomfortable but also amused at his undeniable enthusiasm. even though chloe accidentally pulls on his residual concerns, he’s able to brush that aside and go back to that new and clumsy and brilliantly happy place.

because his worlds are all falling in together, and somehow, it’s fine.


	5. 5

**979 hours before**

his head pounds with all the new information. it doesn’t help that mark is in the other room, amplifying everything he’s feeling. he feels like frank, but more structured, and when his anger breaks through, it feels so much like caleb’s that he loses himself for a second, drowning in it.

and now there’s _everything_. this is more than his little world with adam on one pole and chloe and dr. bright and the shadows beyond that made up what he knew of the atypical underground on the other, but there’s _everything,_ now, and it all fit together. and now, he almost wishes he could go back to his even littler world, where adam was everything.

**26 hours before**

he can’t tell if adam is freaking out. he’s reading a book and his expression is unreadable, and if he’s terrified, the feeling is indistinguishable from his own. the car hums and the feelings in it are sticky and claustrophobic and scared.

he hasn’t turned a page in five minutes, though.

**16 hours before**

adam’s face goes _blank_ and so does caleb’s mind.

dr. bright, sam, and chloe all have similar qualities to their anger, but chloe’s is sharper, more in focus, and painful, like being hit with a lamp.

but worse, frank is angry, angry about chloe, angry about being used, and even on the _best_ of days, being in the same room as frank can give him a headache, but now it’s like all of the emotions are feeding through frank, getting amplified, and shot into caleb, who’s already on the receiving end.

and then mark… and god, what is his deal? he’s like frank, but he’s angry, and there’s something in there that he can’t identify at seeing damien again, something overpowering, and mark, too, is receiving all the emotions and pouring them into the gash in caleb’s forehead, a gaping wound, a horrific headache that’s splitting his head in two. he can feel the emotions pumping through his veins.

and it’s like how it felt in the early days, when he thought he was insane and the feelings would rip him apart and his head would explode. it never did, but there was a place behind his sternum where all the little things would collect, a ticking time bomb and bottled-up feelings like a bottle of coke that he’s tossed around in the sun and glued mentos under the lid. but this time adam’s face is pale and blank, and when damien calls he steps a little closer and the anger keeps coming and pumping through him and he is not strong enough to fight it and unsure if he’s willing to try.

and when the cap pops, it’s more like a bomb exploding and wiping out damien and caleb in equal measure.

**15 hours before**

he talks to mark. he didn’t really mean to, but there they are. there’s some weird feeling of solidarity, in the isolation of being hooked in to everyone’s feelings. and it takes some time for caleb to realize mark is less like frank in the way he feels because he’s more like caleb. he’s spiraling rapidly down into the same patterns he remembers from, god, more than a year ago. his anger has the same quality, and even though mark tells him bottling up your feelings is no good (and doesn’t caleb know it), it’s just like a million other things building in mark’s chest. it seems weird to put a grown man in sixteen-year-old caleb’s shoes, but there they are.

**14.5 hours before**

and then he watches as those millions of things just go off in mark’s chest, and he wants to throw up as mark, then dr. bright fall apart right in front of him. he feels that place behind his sternum ache like it must be doing for mark, and he knows (too well) what it’s like to feel the ticking time bomb in your chest explode.

he can’t tell if the feelings of nausea and horror are from him or adam, or anyone else. but the ones he can feel from adam are like that dark cloud, a storm of anger, fear, confusion, and betrayal as mark rips away the smokescreen on annabelle “wadsworth” whitney, revealing a raw, painful truth. it’s a shockingly similar feeling to what dr. bright is feeling.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow i missed a day, so you guys get to updates right now! this is the mini climax. actually, this is more dramatic than the climax, which is a quiet one. and then of course christmas day will be the finale/third climax/denouement/everyone's-happy-and-we-can-go-home/etc. enjoy!

**11 hours before**

that night he drifts in and out of sleep. his dreams are unmemorable and filled with blood. damien’s emotions weave through and fill his mind, replaying, terror, sick, twisted, masochism, adam’s fear, everyone’s anger. his least favorite is a recurring one in which he does nothing and damien takes adam away.

the only reason he’s gotten any sleep at all is because of the waves of green, lapping over him and taking him under and smoothing out his mind. this to the point that the moment his mind relaxes from the horrific stress and blood that he can feel on his hands after it’s been washed away, at that moment, he’s entirely knocked out.

in either a moment of perfect clarity or a terror-filled haze (there’s really no telling) he lets himself think about what happens next. not for him, but for adam. what happens if annabelle takes him and takes away the green forever.

because it just makes sense, that she would keep him safe from damien by injecting him with chemicals, that shut him away from this thing that keeps caleb going. he just lays there, one, two am, thinking, oh god, oh god, oh god, now he’s really fucked up.

because adam makes it better. he makes it better. he makes it better. he makes it better, and caleb just keeps thinking this, over and over, with ugly tears unseen in the dark. it’s only half embarrassing if you’re the only one who sees you cry.

because if he loses adam’s feeling, it would be like walking around with a gaping hole in his chest, bleeding and ugly and rotten. he can’t survive in a world where there isn’t one and one and green colors everything.

**3 hours before**

sam and dr. bright take damien to the am, after chloe collapses onto the couch, and frank hovers protectively behind her. caleb’s head is pounding and dr. bright’s face is covered in tear tracks and so is mark’s, and sam looks so worried but also so solid, and adam is shaking, still outputting a million things.

they put it to a vote. mark says he couldn’t be objective and whatever they decide was fine (he looks so not fine) and leaves, and he can feel sam’s worry digging into his chest, and dr. bright’s exhaustion, tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of fucking up, like caleb. and it was unanimous, and off sam and dr. bright go.

everyone goes to bed soon after that.

caleb is the only person to hear sam and dr. bright return, speaking quietly, empty-handed.

chloe comes and to get them the next morning. she doesn’t want to wake dr. bright or mark or sam, but they have to go home. caleb’s exhausted from the lack of sleep and delirious from the night’s events and adam is too. he imagines their dreams ran on parallels last night. as they get in the car, they don’t speak, but a quieter fear hangs in the air: like the eye of a storm. it’s a quiet fear, a quiet tension, but the car carries them on and there is no telling what will happen next.

and mark is wrong about him. he is a time bomb, just waiting to go off.


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to tw//ptsd and preface this by saying i do not have ptsd and the writing here is probably inaccurate, so please bear with me. the description gets a little graphic in part 3 (i'd say pg-13) so keep that in mind. thanks everyone for your comments and kudos!!

**zero hour: part 1**

they take adam home first.

caleb gets out of the car when it stops anyway. they just look at each other.

“after everything, it feels weird to be scared of how they’ll react, huh?” adam asks. they’re beyond, it seems, the stupid little games, the stakeouts and the sneaking. adam’s seen a far more terrifying edge to this.

and it might be impossible to go back.

“honestly, i think i’m too tired to be scared,” caleb says. “i think…”

“we’ve been to hell and back, caleb,” he says. “i think we’ve both felt every emotion known to humans, and i think…when they find out…”

“you don’t have to say it,” caleb says. “we’ve both been thinking it.” he sighs. “i just don’t even have the energy to push back against what they say. i just want to sleep for a week and move on.”

“it’s not going to be that easy,” adam warns.

caleb smiles. it’s a tired smile. sarcastic, maybe.

“when is it ever, right?”

they hug, and their hearts beat in time, and there is just a shared void behind their sternums.

caleb gets into the front seat this time.

“what do you thinks gonna happen?” he asks her.

chloe looks worried. “i don’t know,” she said. “i don’t know. but—no. they wouldn’t do that, would they?”

“they might,” he answered wearily. “wake me up when we get there.”

which turned out to be four minutes later.

chloe got out of the car when she stopped it. they hug, and she feels like concern, and fear, and exhaustion, and love.

“i’ll text you to let you know what happens,” he says.

“if they let you have a phone—”

“they wouldn’t ground me for this,” he says. she doesn’t argue, because they both know the thought was there. it feels petty to worry about while a man lays dying. such is life.

“just—let me know, okay? i want to make sure you’re—well…”

he groans, in part to make her worry less. “yes, mom.”

she smiles, but there’s concern in it and in the way she stands and in the colors that are somehow sharper than ever this morning.

and then she gets in her car, and then she’s driving away, and then he’s just standing—

no, he’s walking up the front steps, he’s ringing the doorbell, the michaels are so happy to see him back and then they realize something is wrong and his hands are bruised and oh my god caleb what happened? i’ll tell you, alice, just wait, oh, caleb, your hands, they’re, i know, i know, i know, caleb, please tell us what’s going on, we won’t get mad, please just shut _UP!_

he doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body.

they sit down in the living room. 

he is just...

_tired._

“do you remember damien?” he asks. he doesn’t allow a reply. “well, he made adam tell him something. about the am. and then he was being sketchy, and-- that’s why we had to leave. dr. bright thought the two of us were in danger, and so she took us to sam’s safe house. but then damien hit chloe with the lamp, and frank told him where we were, and then he—”

his voice wavered.

“he tried to take adam.”

his mother’s hands fly to her mouth. “oh my god,” she whispers.

he expected to cry, or feel something. the only thing he can feel is the echoes of everyone else’s emotions. “he tried to take adam. i couldn’t let him. and… now he’s at the am. we couldn’t take him to a normal hospital…”

no one moves.

he’s so tired, and he can barely even make the effort to explain properly.

“they tried to take adam,” he says again. “i couldn’t let him. i couldn’t.”

and none of them move while he talk.

and then everything explodes.

**zero hour: part 2**

dr. bright tried to talk to them. his mom, for the first time, broke down and yelled at her.

“do you see my son? if you look in his eyes, there’s nothing left! you people took my son, and now he’s just broken, and he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, and sometimes he’s angry for no reason, and i don’t know if he’ll ever be okay again! so just leave, okay? leave, and don’t—don’t talk to him—don’t—”

she broke.

so did dr. bright.

“i don’t want you, or any of the others near him again, okay? so just leave.”

“i’m so sorry,” dr. bright said.

“i don’t care,” his mom whispered. “just go.”

caleb wants to fight her, but he’s too tired.

he’s just…tired.

**zero hour: part 3**

adam doesn’t text him for a week. caleb spends most of said week in his room. when he sleeps, all he can feel is damien. all he can see is red. and white. and fear, so noxious, so potent it fills up his head and he feels like he’s bleeding from the inside out, and one day he’ll be so full of blood his skin will turn red and his fingernails will rot. and then there’s just the satisfying feeling of his fists and damien’s face and a sickening sense of satisfaction.

he wakes up covered in blood.

no.

no, he wakes up covered in sweat. sometimes he can’t tell until he turns a light on.

sometimes he’s so scared to fall asleep that he refuses. he reads or he does homework that the team sends him or he stays up on his laptop. or he waits for a text that doesn’t arrive.

in his waking hours, there’s either the sticky static in his chest, because the feelings of his family are just so constant and _there_ that they settle into him, heavy and unyielding, and he just lies there, heart beating, wishing he could stand or move or leave but too scared to give autonomy to his limbs.

and something about adam is almost like a drug, because with every day and every color but green he feels like he’s being torn apart, but slowly, so slowly, and sometimes he has to cover his mouth to swallow the scream. it’s a scream that never leaves his body or his mouth, and there are some days where he spends an hour or two showering, pushing what his parents will notice, trying to sweat it out. trying to sweat it all out, like an addict. like nicotine. 

he can’t visit chloe. he can’t go to dr. bright. he’s effectively trapped inside his skin and his bones and his mind.

it is the worst week of his life.

and then he gets the text from adam.


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for not keeping up with posting (vacation, friend stuff, etc.), but this is it! the finale! let's all ring in 2018 by having a healthy dose of no-lauren-this-is-totally-how-it-ends,-right?

**180 hours after**

**gerard gay:** hey

**you:** are you okay?

**gerard gay:** yes.

**gerard gay:** are you?

**you:** not really

**gerard gay:** me too.

**you:** where the fuck were you for a week?

**gerard gay:** my parents took my phone. they didn’t want me going anywhere or doing anything until they “decided how to deal with this”.

**you:** that’s fucked up

**gerard gay:** i know

**gerard gay:** my mom had a huge fight with annabelle. i don’t think they’re going to talk again.

**you:** adam i’m so sorry

**gerard gay:** you heard what mark said. i don’t think i could talk to her after…

**gerard gay:** well, after.

**you:** jesus

**gerard gay:** i haven’t been at school at all

**gerard gay:** that was part of it.

**you:** me too

**you:** i can’t talk dr bright or chloe or anyone

**gerard gay:** they almost didn’t let me talk to you.

 **you:** but?

**gerard gay:** what do you think caleb

**gerard gay:** yes

**you:** adam, i think i’m really fucked up.

**gerard gay:** i’m so sorry

**gerard gay:** i love you

**1,470 hours after**

he doesn’t realize that it’s christmas at first.

there’s something pounding against his temples and he sort of feels like he’s going to throw up. he keeps tasting bile and the air in his room feels sort of hot and claustrophobic. adam went to sleep hours ago, after being assured that caleb was fine and after about twelve dozen _i miss yous_.

having the door closed feels claustrophobic, but if it’s open his parents could hypothetically see him, and that would be worse. all break it’s just been uncomfortable glances, like they know. like they know that he’s a time bomb. like they’re just _waiting_ to be the collateral. it’s the worst fucking feeling in the world, and he doesn’t even have adam to neutralize it, because he’s gone, visiting family for hanukkah.

the months after were bad.

like a dam broke inside him and that’s all he can think about.

like every time he steps wrong, an old emotion comes welling up, and then there’s the anger, because god, why does this keep happening.

like he can’t look in anyone’s eyes because they’re scared and pitying all at once. (adam’s the worst.)

like maybe if damien was right here, right now, caleb would do it all again.

if it meant protecting adam…

it’s a terrifying thought.

he rolls over. the sheets are hot and sticking, and all the covers are on the floor. he checks the time on his bedside clock.

1:00 a.m.

christmas morning.

he feels completely miserable.

**1,589 hours after**

he feels guilty that out of all the emotions that have been laid bare before him in the past half hour, the strongest one is vindication.

because his head is clear. it is gorgeously, miraculously, perfectly clear. it’s like a fever breaking.

and after only thirty minutes with dr. bright.

and he just feels so absolutely vindicated. the air is crisp and cold and he wraps his coat tighter, and smiles at the people passing on the street, holding coffees, or rubbing their hands together to keep warm. the sky is overcast, but he feels like the brightest version of yellow he’s ever been. 

it’s like mark said. he went off _because_ his guard was down after a year of therapy. and dr. bright proved it—he _can_ get back to that place. and sure, the other therapist tries his best, but therapy is for sharing your emotions, and lying constantly does absolutely nothing. seeing dr. bright cleared up months of feeling like he was trapped in his body and lost in everyone’s emotions. seeing dr. bright, and better, talking with her like a friend, just… god. god.

it begins to snow, and he smiles.

**2,009 hours after**

chloe tells him that she's leaving.

“you… what? why?”

“it hurts, caleb,” she says. she smiles, but there’s pain in it. “nothing’s quite as clear as it used to be. i think—i think i’m going crazy, a little bit.”

“i hate him,” caleb says.

she smiles a sad smile. “couldn’t you tell?”

“that you were getting worse?” she nods. “i guess a little bit. the… the quality of the emotions i get from you are distorted now.”

she nods.

“i’m sorry,” she adds. “i feel like sometimes i embarrassed you, or said things out loud you didn’t appreciate or—i don’t know. i just—“

“chloe, i love you,” he says. “none of that matters.” she glances down and smiles.

“it’ll be nice, i think,” she says. “to listen to music and actually hear it.”

“i’ll make you a mixtape,” he responds.

“i’d like that.”

they sit in a silence for a moment.

“chloe, do you think frank likes me?”

she’s taken aback. “i think…”she starts. “i think he understands you. i think he cares about you.”

“so he doesn’t.” caleb nods. “yeah, i figured.”

“i didn’t say that. i don’t think he likes you exactly. but i do think he cares about you and your wellbeing. i think he sees you in him, a little.” 

“i wish i could help him,” caleb says. “you know? i wish i could help somebody.”

“do you want me to ask if he’ll do art therapy with you while i’m gone?” she asks. “it could help you, too.”

caleb smiles.

“totally.”

**4,444 hours after**

“whose car is that?” caleb asks, dumbfounded.

adam blushs faintly. “um, mine.”

“you got a car?” caleb stares at him. “also, isn’t is kind of my birthday?”

adam rolls his eyes. “they bought me the car specifically for, and i quote, “so you can visit caleb on the weekends next year.” he grins. “so. is it your birthday?”

his smile is infectious. caleb grins back. “it fucking is,” he declares. “also, i didn’t know your parents liked me that much…”

“i think they felt bad about… you know. everything.”

caleb fights against a “well, good” and just smiles more.

“so, you gonna get in?”

“are you kidding me?”

he stares at the car as he walks around to the passenger door. once he’s in, adam leans in like he’s going to kiss caleb, but instead pulls a blindfold around his eyes. caleb laughs in surprise. “um…”

“you’re not allowed to see where we’re going,” adam says. caleb can feel his breath on his neck as he ties it in place, and then pulls back.

“can you see anything?”

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“um… yeah.”

he can hear adam’s deadpan face: “but are you lying.”

caleb laughs. “i swear, i can’t see anything.”

he flinches in surprise as he feels adam’s lips brush his.

“good,” adam says in satisfaction. caleb rolls his eyes, then remembers he can’t see that.

it takes at least thirty minutes to get where they’re going. adam plays their mix and they talk, and there is green, and it fills the car, and that space behind his sternum. he keeps wanting to pull the bandana off and resisting because whatever this surprise is, it’s making adam so happy. a bit nervous, but in a good way.

the car stopped. he goes to pull off the bandana and adam stops him.

“nope,” he says. “you take that off and you don’t get your birthday gift. or the cake, which i’ve heard from two different sources, is very good.”

“what?” he asks. the driver door slams. moments later, the passenger side opens. adam leans over and undoes his seatbelt, kisses him on the forehead, and helps him out of the car. caleb stumbles across the concrete.

“you’re such a dork,” he says to adam.

“meathead,” he replies automatically. “come on.”

adam walks him up some stairs and an overwhelming sense of deja-vu seems to overwhelm him. he’s been here before.

adam opens a door, and he stumble into adam as a million voices yell,

_“SURPRISE!”_

adam pulls the bandana off. as caleb recognizes where they are, he starts laughing.

“surprise,” adam says, looking obnoxiously smug. caleb leans over and kisses him.

“you did this?” he asks.

“it was my idea, anyway,” adam says.

caleb rolls his eyes.

“happy birthday caleb!”

somebody runs into him full-tilt and the hug knocks the wind out of him. he grins as he recognizes the shade of yellow, brighter than ever, but still the same.

“chloe, you’re here!”

“and i brought the cake,” she says , pulling back to smile at him. “you’re eighteen, caleb! how does it feel?”

“it feels like having you back,” he says. 

“aww,” sam says, somewhere in the back.

“shut up,” he says reflexively. he takes a moment to scan sam’s living room once chloe has released him.

dr. bright, mark, sam, frank. chloe. adam.

“happy birthday, caleb,” dr. bright says. she smiles at him. “i notice you aren’t under house arrest anymore.”

he shrugs. “i may have… talked them down.”

“he was a fucking legend, dr. bright,” adam cuts in. “he texted me the whole thing.”

caleb groans. “dork…”

chloe stops him before the exchange could be carried out, again. “cake, anyone?”

“ooh, yes please,” sam says.

“hey, caleb, wait a moment.”

caleb pauses, confused, while everyone else piles into the kitchen. “yeah?”

mark looks tired. “thanks for… well. thanks for saying some of what you did when we talked in november.”

“i didn’t really say anything,” caleb says.

“well. you were sort of saying what i’d been hearing from everyone else, but, well… hearing it from somebody who knows that that kind of anger is like… i think it helped. trust me, i ignored it for as long as i could but… i’m doing better now. so thank you.”

“you’re welcome, i guess.”

the loop is faint, but it feels like pride and also happiness and maybe some version of understanding.

“happy birthday, caleb.”

that places behind his sternum feels like green, green, green, green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **beta:** green green green green green green  
>  **beta:** you Coward  
>  **beta:** Say It  
>  **beta:** he's Yellow and Bright  
>  **beta:** but he's also Green  
>  **you:** fine  
> that last sentence is for you.


End file.
